Infected
by kazoquel4
Summary: When Merlin is wounded by a magical beast, he's infected with a slow acting but deadly poison. Suddenly it's a race against the clock for Merlin, Arthur, and the knights to get Merlin to the antidote- and the things they discover in the process threaten to tear their tiny group and their destinies apart. Reveal fic. No slash.
1. Chapter 1

Searing pain was the first thing that Merlin registered.

He gasped, dimly aware that he was on the ground. The rocks underneath him bit through his thin jacket, but he had more pressing things to worry about: namely, the immense pain radiating from his chest and the house-sized creature writhing on the ground not two feet away from him.

The first thing he needed to do was check to make sure that the beast hadn't crushed any of his friends. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Merlin raised himself on his elbows and peered around the hairy, twitching foot to where he remembered they had fallen. Catching a glimpse of the crimson colors of Camelot, he strained for a few moments to make sure they were all accounted for: Gwaine, check. Percival and Elyan, check. And- Merlin released a sigh of relief he hadn't realized he'd been holding- there was Arthur, still propped unceremoniously against a rock where Merlin had left him. His mouth had fallen open at a strange angle and his chin was squashed against his chest in a comical way that made Merlin chuckle- which proved to be a bad decision.

He fell back again with a strangled gasp, his side flaring with heat. Squeezing his eyes shut, he waited for what felt like several minutes for it to subside. When he chanced moving again he felt along the front of his shirt, looking for any holes or burns that would explain the pain. Finding nothing, he frowned, eased himself into a sitting position, and inspected his shirt more closely. Still nothing.

That didn't make any sense. Merlin could remember getting hit with something that the beast had flung out seconds before it collapsed. While he hadn't seen what it was, he had assumed from the force of the impact, which had sent him flying back several feet, and the sharp pain that it had been a barb or stinger of some sort.

He heard a strangled groan and was on his feet in seconds. He knew the drill. In a few minutes the knights and Arthur would be on their feet again and demanding answers- Merlin had been through enough of these skirmishes to predict both their questions and his responses.

Percival was the first one up, which made sense as he had been the first one to go down. He blinked bemusedly around as his comrades stirred around him, all of them opening their eyes to see Merlin standing there, the perfect picture of wide-eyed innocence, handkerchief and hair askew but otherwise unharmed.

"Merlin?" Arthur's voice was froggy and hoarse. He winced as he sat up, rubbing the back of his head, and Merlin wondered if he had dropped him a little too quickly on the rock.

"What happened?" The question belonged to Gwaine, who had shaken off the stupor much more quickly than the others, perhaps because of all of his experience with daily hangovers. He was already on his feet and approaching the fallen beast with his sword drawn, expression wary and suspicious.

"I've only just woken up myself," Merlin said, drawing attention back to himself. He chose his words carefully, but the lies sprang to his tongue without much prompting. "But I saw what happened. You don't remember, Arthur?"

"Remember… what?" Arthur rubbed his head with another wince.

"You had already been knocked aside by the beast's tail," Merlin said, making sure to keep his stance open and his muscles relaxed. "Percival, Elyan, and Gwaine had already been- dispatched, as you saw."

Gwaine shot Merlin a look, but Arthur nodded, expression twisted as he struggled to remember.

"Yes, I recall that much."

"Well, you got knocked aside by the beast's tail, but just before you passed out you threw your sword at the creature. Pierced its heart. You were unconscious by the time it died, but it was quite the sight. Rampaged around for a bit, kicked a few trees- it managed to get the sword out and kind of chucked it across the clearing-" Everyone's eyes moved to Arthur's sword, which lay at his feet. "And then it died," Merlin finished with a shrug, feeling his heart hammering against his ribs. No matter how many times he did it or how easily it came to him, Merlin was always nervous when lying. He was confident that it didn't show, however, as Arthur was already nodding, taking every word of it to heart.

"Yes," he murmured, almost to himself, "that does sound about right." Merlin had definitely dropped him on the rocks a little too hard.

As he heaved himself to his feet Merlin grabbed Arthur's sword and handed it to the king. He wondered if Arthur was going to question the lack of blood on it, but the man just sheathed it and walked closer to the beast, passing Merlin without another glance. "What is it?" he said, prodding it with the toe of his shoe.

"I don't know, Sire," said Elyan, helping Percival to his feet before joining Arthur next to the corpse. "It doesn't look like anything I've ever seen."

"It had magic," Gwaine noted, bending down close and examining its snout, which was still dripping a steady stream of grayish snot. Gwaine wrinkled his nose and stood up. "Remember the fire balls? Nearly took my head off."

Merlin didn't voice his own confusion, but it was there. He too stared down at the beast, desperately searching his memory for the name of it. He normally prided himself on his knowledge of magical creatures, but that was failing him now. The creature was something of a cross between a bear and a lizard, covered in bristly dirt-colored fur but with claws better suited to a dragon. Its tail was long, scaly, and forked at the end, and Merlin knew that underneath the closed eyelids were yellow slits that had reflected the fire it had shot from its mouth at the offending knights who had done nothing but camp too close to its clearing.

"And you, Merlin?"

Merlin blinked, startled out of his thoughts, and looked up to see Arthur looking at him, eyebrows arched.

"Huh?" he asked.

Arthur didn't try to hide his disdained eye roll. "You said you had been knocked out as well," he said, speaking very slowly, as though to a child. Merlin thought that was a little bit high and mighty seeing as his chainmail was still crooked from his fall. "How did that happen?"

Just as before, a thousand lies sprang to Merlin's lips: _he had been caught by a paw. It had wrapped him in its tail and flung him across the clearing. He had bravely jumped in front of the way when the wounded beast had strayed too close to the fallen king, sacrificing his own life for the safety of his master._

"I tripped," Merlin said without thinking.

He heard one of the knights snort, and he shot them a glare; all of them just looked back with politely interested expressions. Gritting his teeth, he looked back at Arthur, who was staring at him incredulously.

"You tripped?" Disbelief colored his words. It was clear that even he was surprised by this new low.

"I was trying to get out of its way." Merlin's voice dropped to a mumble. "I tripped over a root and hit my head on a rock."

"You-" Arthur turned away, looking up at the sky and shaking his head. His mouth twisted in amusement. "You never cease to amaze me. You _tripped_. On a _root._ "

"Trying to avoid a flailing monster!" Merlin's voice came out defensive, and rightly so; he felt his cheeks burning in embarrassment. He could almost read the knight's thoughts: _Silly Merlin, couldn't hurt a fly even if he was given a hammer and the fly was dead._

"You can't even pass out heroically." Still shaking his head, Arthur walked past Merlin, clapping him on the shoulder so hard Merlin felt his knees give, having used up most of his energy fighting the creature. The pain flared up in his chest again and he turned away, biting his tongue to keep from shouting out.

"Let's head back," Arthur announced to his knights. "I'm sure all game within a five mile radius is on the run after all of this. If we get moving we can be back by sunset. Merlin, pack up camp."

Merlin glared at Arthur's back. He was exhausted. He had just used an impressive amount of magic to fight that thing and every time he moved a spike of pain ran through his chest, and on top of all _that_ , he had worked so late into the night setting _up_ camp and had gotten up so early to make breakfast that he was running on very little sleep as it was. And now he was going to have to carry all the gear back to Camelot while Arthur marched ahead with that stupid smirk of his, bragging about how _he_ had defeated a magical beast.

"Right away, Sire," Merlin muttered, turning and stomping back through the underbrush to their meager campsite, still mumbling insults to the king under his breath.

It took a lot of effort to ease himself into a position that put little strain on his wound- if there _was_ a wound; Merlin hadn't had the privacy to actually check- and still gave him a good reach to gather up the blankets and cooking equipment. Arthur had only planned for this hunt to be a day or two long, so they hadn't even taken horses with them. No, they had just used Merlin as a human pack mule and loaded him with everything they needed.

"Don't let it get to you." The bag Merlin was packing was lifted out of his hand. He looked up to see Gwaine shaking dust off of a pot and slipping it into the pack. He had a slight bruise above his right eye, probably from falling, but his grin was unaffected by his injuries.

"When do I ever let things get to me?" His voice came out snappier than he'd meant it to. Irritated, Merlin snatched up Arthur's blanket and started rolling it up, desiring nothing more than to rip the artisan weaving to shreds.

"He's just being his usual arrogant self. You have to let it bounce off you."

Merlin looked up at his friend. Although he was still thrumming with anger at Arthur's obliviousness, he raised his eyebrows. "I don't think knights are supposed to talk about their king like that."

"Hey, we're all thinking it. I'm just the only one brave enough to say it." Tying off the bag, Gwaine set it down and ruffled Merlin's hair. Merlin ducked away, trying to look miffed but unable to muster it. The knight, whom Merlin regarded as one of his closest friends, always managed to cheer him up. "I've got to go and help princess clean up. When we get back to Camelot, you and I are hitting the tavern to celebrate not dying yet again."

As he watched Gwaine rejoin the knights, Merlin felt the smile slipping off his face. With a sigh, he finished packing up camp and carefully pushed himself to his feet, beginning the monumental task of arranging the bags in a way that wouldn't cause him obvious pain.

He would love to join Gwaine for a 'night on the town', but Merlin knew that wouldn't be happening. For one thing, there was no way that Arthur was going to let him out of any of his duties just so he could go to the tavern. The king already thought that that was a favorite haunt of Merlin's, even though he had only been there for fun _one time (_ and hadn't even had anything to drink). In addition, Merlin knew he would be up most of the night explaining what exactly the creature looked like to Gaius so they could figure out what it was that had attacked them. They couldn't risk there being more hiding in the forest just waiting to pounce on the kingdom. If there indeed happen to be a pack of the crazy beasts nearby Merlin would be out here every chance he got taking them down before they could get any closer. The thought made Merlin's tired bones ache. What he wouldn't give for a sleeping draught and a nice bed right about now.

"Merlin!" Arthur and the knights were all standing in the clearing, evidently waiting for him and their supplies. Arthur was glaring, and Merlin had to bite back the urge to glare back at him. The king was in a bad enough mood already. "Having a nice time relaxing over there?"

"I'm having a great time," Merlin muttered. Taking a deep breath, he lifted the last of the bags onto his back so he was stooped under their weight. Pain blossomed in his chest and he squeezed his eyes shut, willing it to abate just until he got back to the safety of Gaius's chambers.

"Idiot."

Merlin opened his eyes as Arthur wrenched one of the bags off his back. "Here, Elyan," he said, tossing the bag to the knight, "it appears that root took so much out of Merlin he can't even carry a few bags."

Merlin glared at Arthur's chainmail covered back as he strode through the forest to the front of the group. The others went ahead, leaving Merlin to bring up the rear, lagging further behind than he usually did to hide his occasional grunts of pain.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"What on earth did you do to yourself?"

Merlin just shook his head as he collapsed into a chair, dropping his bag next to him. He sighed as the weight was taken off his feet; it was the first time that he had been allowed to sit all day. It had been just as he had expected. Arthur had kept him so busy from the second they returned from the hunting trip that he hadn't even been able to take his things back to his chamber.

"There was a bit of trouble," Merlin said. "We were attacked by a beast."

"A beast?"

"A magical one."

Gaius finished putting away the tinctures he had been working on, wiping his hands on a rag as he walked over to Merlin. The remains of his day's work lay strewn out over the table: piles of leftover chopped roots, dried flower petals, and miscellaneous liquids Merlin would have to scrape off the table the next day. Noting the way that his ward was holding his chest, though, he figured that cleaning up could wait a few more minutes. "Shirt off," he ordered.

"It was strange, Gaius," Merlin said, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it onto the table next to him. Gaius shot him a look as he knocked several herbs to the ground with his bad throw. "It was kind of like a bear, and kind of like an- I don't know- an alligator or something."

"A bear-alligator?" Gaius repeated doubtfully.

"Yeah," said Merlin. "And on top of that, it shot fire. It nearly-"

As his head emerged from the shirt and his eyes dropped to his chest, Merlin forgot what he was about to say. Even in the dim lighting he could tell that something was wrong.

"My dear boy." Gaius moved closer, bending close with a startled expression on his face. "What on earth did you do to yourself?"

Merlin wanted to retort that he hadn't done anything at all, it had been the psychotic _monster_ that had done this to him, but the words didn't make it out of his mouth.

The wound- if it could be called a wound, it was more like a patch of raw-looking very red skin- was only a few inches in diameter. It wasn't the shape worrying Merlin, however. It was the fact that it was a perfect circle, as though someone had pressed a hot cup to his chest like a brand, except for purple tendrils snaking out of all sides like veins. These purple lines were hardly longer than one of Merlin's nails, but they were concerning nonetheless. He had never seen an injury like this before. He had seen infections, of course, and knew to look out for the pink discoloration and ringing of the wound, but the strange, almost artificial purple color was unlike anything he had seen on his excursions with Gaius.

"What is it?" he asked when it became clear that Gaius was too surprised to say anything.

Gaius shook his head, standing back up again. "I don't know," he said, moving back over to his medicine cabinet and opening it. The glasses tinkled as he rifled through his stock. When he turned back around again he was holding a vial of some kind of clear goo. "How did you say you got it?"

Merlin explained the invisible force he had been hit with as the beast had died and the pain that had been bothering him ever since as Gaius smeared the gunk onto the wound. The medicine was cool on his burning skin, and Merlin couldn't resist sighing in relief.

"Do you think it's magical?" he asked as Gaius capped the medicine and wiped off his fingers. "Like a spell or something?"

"It must be." Gaius looked troubled in the flickering candlelight. He set the vial back down again. "Hopefully this ointment will help draw any toxins out. For right now we're just going to have to wait and see. I'll try and do some research on the creature and find out what it's defenses are. That might be able to explain it." He turned accusing eyes on his ward. "Why didn't you come to me immediately?"

"How could I? His royal highness needed a bath." Merlin crossed his arms over his sticky chest and rolled his eyes, wishing that he and Arthur had a mental link so he could shove his disdain into his employer's head.

"And what does the king think transpired in the forest?"

"Oh, the usual. He thinks he's a hero for killing it, despite the fact that he was _unconscious_ at the time of its death, and I'm the court jester for failing to do anything productive in the face of peril once again." Merlin had meant for this to come off sarcastic, but he knew that Gaius had heard the weary tint to it. With a sigh, his mentor drew up another chair beside him, passing over a vial of what Merlin recognized as pain medication.

"I know it's hard," he said as Merlin drained the potion in one go, wrinkling his nose at the bitter herbs. "But one day-"

"I'll be recognized for who I am and Arthur will finally appreciate all that I've done for him. Yeah, I know." Merlin dropped his gaze to the stone floor, watching the shadows crinkle in time with the fire. "I just... I'm just tired. I've been doing this for _years_ and everyone still thinks I'm nothing but an idiot. At this point they'll never believe I have enough intelligence to be a sorcerer. I could come out and announce it over breakfast and I'd just get a few chuckles and a pat on the head. 'That's nice, Merlin, now go and fetch some more hot water.' They all think I'm completely useless!"

"That's not true."

"Yes, it is, Gaius. I know that it has to be like this, and for the most part I'm okay with it, but sometimes-" His voice broke off. Sighing, he ran a hand over his face, feeling more exhausted than he ever had in his life. "I'm just sick of being a joke to everyone when all I'm doing is trying to help the best I can."

"I know, m'boy." Gaius reached out and placed a bracing hand on Merlin's knee, face grim but sympathetic. "You've come a very far way from that day you first wandered into my chambers. There is still a long and winding path ahead of you, but I am confident that you will make it through whatever your destiny throws at you. I know you must be sick of hearing it by now, but it bears repeating: one day you _will_ be recognized for your talents. It may not be today or tomorrow, but it will be someday. Have patience."

Merlin didn't feel entirely convinced, but he smiled wearily and nodded in appreciation for the efforts. Gaius patted his knee and then heaved himself to his feet with a groan. "I'll go and fetch some bandages," he said, "and then it's off to bed with you. You look nearly dead on your feet."

As he shuffled off to his storage cupboard, Merlin glanced down at the menacing wound on his chest. He tried not to compare the purple tendrils to fingers creeping out from the center of the injury, because the comparison made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"You idiot!"

Merlin watched Arthur step gingerly over the broken glass and bits of fried egg, taking care of where he placed his bare feet. He lifted his gaze and fixed his trademark glare on his manservant, who glared just as fiercely back.

"What are you talking about?" Merlin shot back. " _You're_ the one who knocked it over."

"You balanced a drink on the edge of a plate and then proceeded to balance the _plate_ on the edge of the table!"

"Well exc _use_ me!" Merlin snapped. "I wake up extra early to bring you and Gwen a nice breakfast-"

"That is your _job_ , Merlin! Don't act like getting here on time is some big hassle for you!"

"And then when you proceed to smash it all over the floor you shout at me and you're probably going to expect me to clean it up-"

" _That is your job, Merlin!_ You have got to be the most incompetent servant-"

"And you have to be the most ungrateful employer!"

Had anyone else dared talk to the king like that, they would have found themselves rubbing chafed wrists in the dungeon. As the insults were coming out of Arthur's servant of almost six years, however, he just shook his head incredulously, hair still mussed from sleep, arms crossed over his chest.

"You're completely ridiculous."

" _I'm_ ridiculous?" Normally Merlin wouldn't be pushing the king this far so early in the morning, but he hadn't forgotten the embarrassment of yesterday. Besides, it had been a good breakfast, damn it! "Just because you've got a big fat crown doesn't mean you have to have an inflated head to go with it! You're so-" Merlin stopped abruptly and ducked as a chalice came soaring at his head. It clattered against the stone behind him, spraying water everywhere, and Merlin stood up with an even harsher glare.

"Boys, please," Guinivere moaned from the bed. She had woken up briefly when Merlin had presented breakfast, but as soon as the arguing had begun she'd lain back down, settling in for another long morning.

"He started it!" both Arthur and Merlin said at the same time before turning their backs on each other in irritation.

After a few seconds Merlin bent down and snatched the chalice up. Without another word he grabbed a rag, got down on his knees, and started picking scraps of breakfast and broken glass up. He kept his head down to avoid looking at Arthur, who moodily pulled out a chair and sat down, still glaring at the wall.

When he had cleaned the floor Merlin stood up, eyes on the ground in what would have been taken as an act of reverence on anyone else, but on Merlin was nothing but another act of defiance. "Is that all, _Sire_?" he asked, putting a special infliction on the last word.

"Yes," Arthur said. As Merlin turned and stomped to the door, he called, "And don't forget to muck out my stables!"

Merlin barely restrained himself from slamming the door shut behind him.

"Do you two have to be so _loud_ this early in the morning?"

Arthur turned to his wife's tired voice to find her still lying there, blankets drawn up to her chin, eyes closed. He felt himself soften as he looked at her. Sighing, he got to his feet, being careful where he was stepping- he didn't trust Merlin's janitorial skills- and sat back down on the bed.

"You know Merlin," he mumbled, snaking an arm around her waist and pulling her close.

Guinivere's eyes opened. She fixed Arthur with a look and wiggled out of his grasp. "Oh, don't," she said.

"Don't what?" Arthur pushed himself up onto one elbow and frowned down at his wife.

"You share the same amount of blame as Merlin does."

"Excuse me?" Arthur asked incredulously. "If you haven't forgotten I _am_ the king-"

"And Merlin is your friend."

"Merlin is my _servant,_ and as such-"

"Oh, stop." Guinivere rolled her eyes. "Let's not do this again."

"Do what?"

"Call Merlin 'just your servant.'"

"He is!"

"He is not and you know he isn't." She threw back the covers and got to her feet, picking up her shawl from the chair next to the bed and wrapping it around her shoulders. "Every few weeks someone asks you about your friendship with your manservant and you go off on a rant about how he's nothing more than an employee-"

"He is!" Arthur said again, but the protest was weak even to his own ears.

"I think it gets to Merlin, you know." Guinivere sat down at the table and picked up her fork.

"Merlin regards me as nothing more than his king." Arthur didn't need the look from Guinivere to know that he was lying through his teeth. Sighing again, he sat across from his wife but found that his appetite had all but disappeared.

"The only reason he isn't more open about your friendship is because he's afraid you'll reprimand him for it." Guinivere cut a small bite of sausage for herself and fixed Arthur in a stare as she chewed. "If you two communicated a bit more-"

"We communicate just fine."

"Throwing stuff isn't communication, Arthur."

"I'm pretty sure he got the message."

"Arthur."

Her tone left no room for further protests. Arthur crossed his arms and stared at the ground as Guinivere continued.

"I realize that Merlin is still technically your servant, but that does not mean you can treat him with such blatant disrespect. He does a lot for you- don't look at me like that, you know it's true- and you've never once said thank you to him."

"That's not true," Arthur muttered.

"Have you forgotten that I was once just as much a servant to you as Merlin is now?"

Arthur lifted his gaze, but his wife's tone wasn't accusatory; it was matter of-fact.

"Of course I haven't," he said gently, "and I'm not saying that I don't respect Merlin just because he's a servant. Merlin's just..." he trailed off, trying to find the word. "It's just the way we work. Merlin can take it."

Guinivere raised her eyebrows but said nothing else, leaving Arthur to frown defensively.

"What?" he said. "Merlin and I have always bickered, you know that. Merlin knows that I... he knows."

"I wouldn't be absolutely sure of that," Guinivere said.

"What does that mean?"

"It means that everyone has their breaking point, and if anyone can find Merlin's, it's going to be you."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Prat," Merlin muttered as he shut the door to Arthur and Gwen's chambers behind him, still holding the makeshift bag of broken glass and food.

As he stomped away Merlin felt the waves of anger already dissipating. Really, the morning had been an overreaction on both of their parts. Merlin recognized that he had been acting out of pure exhaustion and irritation directed mostly at his chest, which continued to throb painfully every few minutes, and he knew that Arthur had his own worries over trade negotiations with a nearby kingdom. It had been partly because of this that he had announced the hunting trip to alleviate stress; one wrong move in these talks and Camelot could go to war. Merlin knew that Arthur had a lot on his plate right now, and if he needed to take some of his frustrations out on his manservant he was perfectly within his rights to do so.

 _People don't take frustrations out on their friends, though_ , whispered a voice in Merlin's head. He shook his head irritably, trying to shake the thought out. Now wasn't the time to sit around wondering about he and Arthur's relationship. He knew where they stood. He had heard it a thousand times before: two sides of the same coin, blah blah blah.

Merlin passed a few young servants on his way around the corner. They smiled and said good morning to him as he passed, and he nodded his head cheerfully. As soon as they were out of sight he let his grin drop again.

Sighing, he worked his shoulder in his socket, sore from yesterday's trip. Suddenly he twisted his arm a little too far and pain flared through his chest, worse than anything he had suffered through yet. With a strangled gasp he dropped the towel, dimly hearing the shards of glass spill over the stone, but he had already pressed his back against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut as the pain receded.

When it was gone, Merlin shakily lifted a hand to his shirt. Scrambling for a moment at the neck with clumsy fingers, he lifted away the fabric, gingerly pulled up some of the bandages, and squinted down at the wound he hadn't looked at since last night.

His blood ran cold. The purple tendrils had snaked out several more inches during the night.

 **A/N: I'm not so sure about this one, so please review if you want me to continue. I would love your feedback!**


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur laid down the letter with a sigh of relief. He was glad that he had retreated to the privacy of his own chambers to read it, because his hands were shaking so badly he had barely been able to make out the familiar handwriting. He wasn't sure he would have been able to function with his advisors breathing down his neck while he read.

Running his fingers through his short hair, he took another deep breath, feeling his heart rate slowly return to normal. As it did a grin spread across his face. _Finally, I can have a bit of peace._

When the envoy had come running into court bearing the letter, Arthur's heart had sank. He wasn't due for more correspondence for at least another few days; why had it taken so little time for King Reonan to get back to him? Normally the monarch liked to take days, weeks even, in between responses. While he claimed his unusually slow pace was just so he could think things through, Arthur suspected that he just enjoyed watching other kingdoms sweat it out.

Now, however, he was holding a response he had only dreamed would be the resolution to their trading stalemate. Had Reonan disagreed over the terms of their territorial dispute once more, it might have been war, or at least quite a bit of hostility, between the two kingdoms. The letter, however, bore the news that Reonan was willing to accept Arthur's compromise in the hopes of maintaining the peace. While Arthur was surprised, he didn't let that temper the exhilaration coursing through his veins. Months of stress and late nights had finally culminated in a peaceful conclusion.

Arthur knew that he should start right away on a response, but as the only words running through his mind were "Yes!" "Oh yeah!" and "Woohoo!" he doubted he would be able to form a coherent and kingly speech. And anyways, a tiny, vindictive part of Arthur (that he probably shouldn't listen to) wanted to make Reonan stew in his own impatience for a while, just to see how he liked it.

Maybe there was a little bit of truth in Guinivere's admonishments that Arthur really was a child.

The door creaked open, and Arthur heard someone slip in and shut it again. Seeing as they had gotten past the guards and hadn't knocked, there was only one person on this earth whom it could be.

"Merlin," he said, turning around to face his manservant.

"What did it say?" Merlin's voice was eager, hands clasped behind his back in poorly concealed anticipation. Perhaps it was just his good mood carrying over, but Arthur felt a sudden rush of affection for everything about his servant, from the familiar red neckerchief to his wide eyes. Could it be that only a few hours ago he had chucked a goblet at his head?

"Reonan's agreed to grant Camelot passage through his northern borders," Arthur said, unable to hold back a grin, especially when Merlin fist punched the air with a shout of excitement.

Suddenly Merlin winced, arm coming up to wrap around his torso. Arthur was on his feet in an instant, a frown on his face, letter lying forgotten on his desk.

"What's wrong?" he asked. He wanted to take a few steps forward to assess his servant, but pride kept his feet frozen where he stood. He didn't normally notice when something was the matter, and now that he had he wasn't sure how to operate.

"Nothing," Merlin said, although his words came out too quick for Arthur to fully believe.

"Mhmm," Arthur said, narrowing his eyes. He crossed his arms and did his best to look regal. "If you're injured, I demand to know, Merlin."

Merlin hesitated, clearly struggling with something. He shifted his weight to his other foot. Then, opening his mouth, he said, "Okay, I-"

A knock on the door interrupted him. Before Arthur could say anything it opened and Guinivere entered, face flushed, panting slightly.

"I heard the news," she said, striding towards her husband. She stopped a foot away from him, eyes scanning his face desperately, chest rising and falling as she struggled to catch her breath. Arthur knew that she had been just as anxious about this situation as he had been.

Arthur smiled. "We've done it."

Guinivere's response was directed inward, unlike Merlin's, but Arthur knew her well enough to see the immeasurable joy in her eyes. She let out a breath of disbelief as she wrapped her arms around Arthur's neck, pulling him close. Arthur clutched her to him, eyes shut, face pressed against her hair, and was so busy breathing in her scent he didn't notice Merlin drop his head and slip out the door.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"I don't understand, Gaius. I thought that salve was supposed to draw any toxins out?"

Merlin was, once again, sitting on Gaius's cot with his shirt off while the physician poked and prodded his chest.

"It was." Gaius's face was puckered with confusion as he examined the veins that had spread out over Merlin's chest. He ran a withered finger softly over one of them, trying not to cause his ward anymore pain. "I don't understand..."

"Have you found anything out about the creature?"

"Nothing substantial." Gaius sighed and stood up, moving back over to his potions cupboard. He started looking through the glass vials, eyebrows drawn. "This new development creates an entire score of new problems, though. None of the beings I was considering create wounds like this. Especially when the injury seems to be growing."

Merlin looked down at his chest, feeling the first prickles of fear on the back of his neck. Regular wounds he could deal with; he had to in his line of 'work'. A wound that appeared to be growing, living even, reaching out with curling purple tendrils towards his neck and limbs... that kind of freaked him out a bit.

"Here." Gaius returned with a bottle of blue ointment, unstopping it with slow fingers. "I whipped this up this morning just in case. The potency is much stronger than my usual, but maybe it will do something to stop the growth until we can figure out a definite cure."

"Do you think there's a cure?"

Gaius looked up. Merlin was staring at him, his blue eyes wide with repressed worry, and for a moment Gaius wasn't looking at the man who had been serving Arthur for six years: he was looking at the skinny youth who had come wandering into Gaius's chambers convinced that he was a monster. Gaius forced his facial muscles to relax, trying to appear unconcerned as he smoothed the ointment across the injury.

"I know there is," he said. "And if there isn't, we'll find one."

"But-"

"Don't worry, Merlin, we'll sort this out." Gaius closed the vial and wiped his hands off on a rag. Merlin continued to sit there, watching his mentor as the medicine on his chest dried.

"There's a few more books I want to check," Gaius said. "This has given me some ideas as to what the beast is. I should have an answer for you by the end of the day if my hunch is correct."

"I suppose there's no chance in you just telling me what your hunch is, is there?"

Gaius just cocked an eyebrow at Merlin, his lips twitching into a smirk.

Merlin sighed, picked up his shirt, and pulled it back over his head, moving carefully. Grabbing his jacket, he hopped off the cot- only to be hit by a wave of dizziness so intense he clutched at the table to steady himself.

"Merlin?" Gaius was at his side with a second, clutching his arm as the room righted itself around Merlin once more. "What's wrong?"

"Just got a little dizzy there," Merlin said with a frown, shaking his head experimentally. "I'm probably just tired."

"Did you get any sleep on that trip of Arthur's?"

"Barely." Merlin rolled his eyes and wiggled into his jacket. "I have to get going, Arthur wants me to polish his armor and launder his best robes. He has a meeting with the knights tonight to discuss patrol routes, and apparently he needs to look impressive. Not sure why, as the knights have already sworn their loyalty to him... I mean, they're not going to ditch him because he has a smudge on his chainmail."

"He's a king now, Merlin," Gaius said. "He needs to be impressive all the time. It comes with the job."

"Then he's failing miserably, because he never impresses me."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Gwaine whistled as he wandered the courtyard, the soles of his leather boots scuffing loudly on the stone. There weren't many people around this late in the day. He passed a handful of servant girls carrying dirty laundry to the washroom and winked at them, turning his torso slightly so the emblem that marked him as a knight of Camelot was more visible. The girls ducked their heads with a chorus of giggles, quickening their pace and whispering amongst themselves.

Grinning to himself, Gwaine caught sight of a flash of red and blue across the courtyard through the open door of the armory. His grin grew to an actual smile and he changed his course, strolling to the tiny building.

"Hard at work, I see."

Merlin looked up from the sword lying in his lap to find Gwaine standing there, leaning against the open doorway.

"I have to do something every once in a while," he said.

Gwaine chuckled and walked in, pulling up a chair and sitting down. Merlin protested as he grabbed a piece of Arthur's armor and picked up a clean rag, but Gwaine quailed him with a look.

"Nobles aren't supposed to help servants with work," Merlin pointed out, but there was a grateful smile gracing his lips.

"Luckily for you I'm not nobility. Shut up and keep polishing."

The two of them worked in comfortable silence for a while, briskly rubbing the metal until it shone in the late afternoon light leaking in from the windows. As Gwaine worked he reflected upon how content he was surrounded by sharp, pointy things, with some good ale in his stomach and one of the best friends he could ask for sitting by his side. It was hard to believe that only a few years ago he had been content drunkenly wandering the countryside picking up women to spend the night with.

Speaking of women...

"How's your love life, Merlin?"

Merlin glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, eyebrows raised. "I haven't the time to nurture one, you know that."

"Oh, surely you can squeeze in a few women during your off hours."

"You say that as if I get off hours." Merlin held Arthur's sword up, squinting down the length of it to check for smudges. The sharpened metal caught the light and bounced off the stone walls like sunlight off a reflecting pool.

"Come on, there's plenty of pretty girls around here! I just passed a whole horde of them. I'm sure any of them would jump at the chance to get with the king's manservant."

He waggled his eyebrows at Merlin, who just laughed.

"As soon as I find time to devote to my 'love life', you'll be the first to know, Gwaine. I don't see that happening in the immediate future, though." Content with his work, Merlin got to his feet to place the sword back in his rack. Then he stopped, a strange look passing over his face.

Gwaine's hands stilled on the armor he was still working on. "What is it?" he asked, eyeing his friend.

Merlin blinked, still looking a bit dazed, then shook his head. "Nothing," he said. He started moving again, although his movements were subdued, careful. Gwaine, although he didn't often get credit for being observant, did pride himself on one thing: he knew his friends inside and out. And that's why he put down the armor and stood up, moving towards Merlin with a frown.

"No," he said, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Merlin repeated. He slipped the sword into its spot, keeping his back turned towards Gwaine for a second too long. When he did turn around Gwaine was standing there staring at him, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

"Spill," the knight said.

"Spill what?"

Gwaine ran his eyes over Merlin, for the first time taking in the downturned set of his mouth, the strange lack of color even for him, and the way he was holding his arms away from his body, as though trying not to move too much. He had seen the stance before in his injured comrades, and immediately a warning bell went off in his mind.

"Something's wrong."

Merlin's eyes flicked to the side before focusing back on Gwaine. It was a tiny tick, one Gwaine almost didn't notice, but he knew what it meant: Merlin was about to lie to him.

"I'm just a little nauseous," Merlin admitted. "I might have eaten a funny piece of chicken yesterday. That's all."

Oh, that cheeky bastard.

"Really?" Gwaine said, raising his eyebrows. "Maybe you should go and lie down, then."

"I'm really alright. Besides, I have to serve at the knight's meeting tonight."

"I'm sure Arthur would understand. He has plenty of servants, you know."

Gwaine intended for the words to be comforting, but they seemed to have the opposite effect. Something in Merlin's expression hardened, and he lifted his chin a little.

"I'm fine," he said a little too firmly. "I need to go and finish wiping down the table in the meeting room. I'll see you tonight. Thanks for helping."

Gwaine stepped aside wordlessly as Merlin brushed past him, watching him hesitate for a moment before slowly stooping down to pick up the polished armor. Gathering them awkwardly in his skinny arms, the servant walked out of the building without a backward glance at the knight, who stared at his retreating form from the doorway until Merlin disappeared into the castle.

Gwaine stood there for another few moments, thinking quickly. Merlin hiding things wasn't anything knew. The man was an interesting mix between open book and locked vault of secrets. Whenever Gwaine looked at him he got the offputting sensation that he was looking at someone who simultaneously kept nothing hidden and was an entirely different person than what he appeared to be. Therefore, Merlin not telling the whole truth was normal, but Gwaine couldn't understand why he would keep something so trivial to himself. If he was injured, why not tell Gwaine? For Gwaine couldn't think of anything else that would cause Merlin to move so carefully. Was he keeping the fact that he was hurt a secret, or did he want to keep the cause quiet?

Gwaine's thoughts darkened as he wondered how Merlin could have gotten injured. If it had been something silly, Merlin would have told him, Gwaine was sure of that. That left an entire score of malicious ideas in Gwaine's head. Had someone hurt his friend? Was someone _hurting_ his friend right now?

He stood there in the doorway, his instincts pulling him in the direction Merlin had disappeared in, but he held himself steady. Merlin obviously hadn't wanted to tell him, and the last thing Gwaine wanted to do was pressure him. He would just have to approach him later and try to coerce the servant into telling him of his own volition. Besides, he would see him in a few short hours at the meeting, and he would be able to keep an eye on him then.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The library was thick with the smell of decaying books and solitude, and quite empty apart from Sir Geoffrey at his desk and Gaius at one of the tables. The physician would have preferred to investigate in the privacy of his chambers, but without Merlin there to help him he wasn't able to carry all the books he needed all the way back to his rooms. Therefore, he had to put up with the oppressing silence and the suspicious glances of his good friend, whom had been put off by Gaius's refusal to allow him to help him.

"Are you quite sure you've got everything you need, Gaius?" Geoffrey called for the third time.

"Yes, Geoffrey, I'm doing quite well."

Gaius opened the large book he had pulled down from the 'Creatures' section of the library. It was an ancient one, with yellow pages that threatened to fall apart in Gaius's hands. When Gaius had first pulled it off the shelf, Geoffrey had made the comment that he normally didn't let people look at it because of how frail it was.

"But seeing as it's you," he had said, eyeing Gaius almost threateningly as he handed over the volume.

Gaius made sure to turn the pages carefully as he flipped through to almost the end of the book. Murmuring slightly to himself, he stopped at what he thought was the right page, running a finger down the fading ink, reading through the information quickly. As he got further down the page, his face lost more and more color. By the end, he was almost as white as his hair.

"Gaius?"

Gaius jumped slightly and turned to see the court genealogist standing there, a concerned frown on his face. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"I'm fine." Gaius's voice echoed in his own ears. He closed the book sharply. Geoffrey shot him a disapproving look. "May I take this, Geoffrey?"

"I'm not sure, Gaius." Geoffrey glanced at the book. "It's unique to our collection, and-"

"Please."

His friend's tone gave Geoffrey a pause. He looked at the physician more closely, saw the set of his lined jaw and the desperation in his eyes. And although he couldn't understand why he was this interested in a book about made up animals, he felt his resolve caving in.

"Well, alright," he said, watching Gaius's shoulders slump in relief. "But be careful with it."

"I will," Gaius promised, standing up and tucking the book under his arm. He turned and hurried out of the library as fast as his feet could carry him.

"Gaius, you left everything out!" a dismayed Geoffrey shouted after his friend, standing in front of the piles of books Gaius had taken out and failed to put back. Sighing in irritation, he picked up one of the volumes and started the arduous task of returning everything to it's rightful place.

Outside, Gaius was already halfway to his chambers, his mission echoing in his mind: he needed to get to Merlin.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"I think the patrols would run a lot smoother if they were co-ed."

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose, preparing himself to look up at the smirking knight. The meeting had started only fifteen minutes ago and already Arthur was ready to retire for the night. "Co-ed, Gwaine?" he asked, resigning himself to the conversation.

"Sure. If we assign a few of the servant girls to accompany the knights, it will not only boost morale all around, but it will get all of the social classes involved in the safety of our kingdom. Who's with me?"

He raised his goblet, beaming around at his fellow knights, and received nothing but blank stares and a few shakes of their heads. Next to him, Elyan leaned over and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Nice try, mate," he said with a chuckle.

The king and his closest knights- Gwaine, Leon, Elyan, and Percival- were all seated around the table in Arthur's private meeting chambers. It was a small room that was really only used for this sort of thing because of how cozy it made all the occupants feel. Arthur generally preferred to exude a different aura during professional meetings, but when it was just him and his knights he relished the close quarters, dim lighting, and the merrily crackling fire. Normally these talks just disintegrated into catch-up time for the knights, something that Arthur encouraged (once they had discussed actual business, of course). It was important for all of his knights to be comfortable with each other, and although they were around each other almost all day he knew they rarely had time to just sit and talk. A sense of camaraderie was vital in dangerous situations.

Arthur turned in his seat and sought Merlin, who was leaning against the wall with a pitcher of wine in his hands. He frowned when he saw that the servant had his eyes shut, drooping slightly where he stood as though asleep. Although the constraints of the social hierarchy that dominated the court outside of their group was always lessened in this room, it was unlike Merlin to be so blatantly uninvolved. He was usually hovering close to the table with his pitcher, completely forgetting that he was supposed to be serving and instead chatting with all of the knights and generally distracting them from listening to Arthur. Although Arthur was grateful for the quiet, he couldn't condone sleeping on the job, not even if it was Merlin.

"Merlin!"

Merlin didn't jump like Arthur expected him to, but instead slowly opened his eyes, fixing his gaze on the king with a blank expression. Something in Arthur's head was warning him that that there was something off about the situation, but he brushed it aside and glared at his servant.

"Having fun napping over there?"

"I'm sorry, Sire, your voice is just so boring it lulled me to sleep."

A couple of the knights snorted, and Arthur glared harder at Merlin. Normally he would have jumped him with a quip of his own- probably some insult about his ineptitude as a servant- but Merlin's voice had been so lacking in its usual energy and good humor it threw Arthur off. Instead, he said, "Well, wake yourself up long enough to do your job. I ran out of wine five minutes ago and you've been standing there daydreaming. Come on."

It took Merlin a few seconds to come to Arthur's side. His movements were slow as he poured the drink, and a few drops of it spilled over the side of the goblet. An admonishment sprang to Arthur's lips, but as he looked up at Merlin it died in his throat. In the flickering light from the fire he could make out every line in Merlin's face, which suddenly looked ancient and foreign to Arthur, and the chalky pallor of his skin. He felt his forehead crease with concern.

"Are you alright, Merlin?" He kept his voice low so as not to alert the other knights to the situation. Merlin glanced at him, surprise crossing his face like he was startled the king had noticed anything. A barb ran through Arthur's chest at the thought. _Hey, he noticed things!_

"I'm fine," Merlin said, his voice soft as well. Then he was gone, moving back to his place in the shadows behind Arthur's chair.

Arthur turned back to see his knights all chatting, completely unaware of what had just transpired. He could feel Merlin's presence right behind him, and instead of the comfort it normally filled him with he instead felt unease and a strong desire to sit Merlin down and demand straight answers. Thinking hard, Arthur raised his goblet to his lips and took a sip of the rich red wine. As he did so, his eyes caught someone else's and he realized that he had not been the only one to notice something was going on: Gwaine was moving his eyes from Arthur to Merlin, an unusually serious look on his face. It made him look like a different person. The fact that Gwaine had noticed something was wrong as well colored the situation in a new shade of worry.

He was about to turn around in his seat to examine Merlin closer when Leon spoke to him. He reluctantly dragged his attention back to his knights.

"If I might suggest, Sire," Leon was saying, "I think we could benefit from easing up on patrols to the east and instead focusing on the lower parts of town. There have been reports of druids smuggling in goods to the lower market."

All thoughts of Merlin momentarily wiped from his mind, Arthur frowned. "Druids?" he asked. "Smuggling in Camelot?"

"I've heard that too, Sire," said Elyan. Percival nodded his agreement next to him.

Arthur sat back in his seat, hands curled on the table in front of him, and glared around at his knights. He ignored the fact that Gwaine's attention was still fixed behind him. "And when was I going to be told of this?"

"Right now?" Gwaine asked, still staring above his head. Once again Arthur felt Merlin's presence behind him, sensed the lack of energy there, but he shoved those thoughts aside to focus on his kingly duties as he had so many times in the past.

"Any word of magic users in Camelot is to be reported to me right away," he ordered his knights. They bowed their heads in respectful acknowledgment. "We have no tolerance for any magical artifacts or practitioners. We'll increase the patrols, and if they are caught they will be tried for treason, facing execution."

A sound behind him startled him and Arthur finally turned in his seat to look at Merlin. His servant had his head bowed, hands wrapped around the pitcher he had obviously almost dropped. Arthur frowned as Merlin shakily raised his head again, looking even paler than before.

"Mer-" Arthur started.

"Merlin, could you pass the wine?" Elyan called, holding his empty goblet. The knights all felt uncomfortable ordering Merlin around, especially Elyan and Gwaine, who had come from backgrounds with no experience being served, and as such any requests for Merlin's help were normally posed as questions. Gwaine point blank refused to comply with any professionalism around Merlin, often pouring his own wine or fetching his own food, all the while chatting with him as a friend and not a servant. Arthur sometimes marveled at Merlin's ability to get everyone to like him enough for them to look past his social status; even Leon, who had grown up as a noble and complied strictly with class roles, was freer around Merlin, treating him more as a younger brother than a servant. Arthur doubted that there had ever been as many complicated relationships in the court before as there were with Merlin and the nobles.

As Merlin rounded the table with the pitcher Arthur turned to Percival, who was sitting back in his seat with his arms crossed, watching the proceedings silently. As he opened his mouth, intending to ask his opinion, several things happened at once.

There was the sound of ceramic shattering and liquid crashing to the ground accompanied by startled shouts. Arthur watched Percival's face twist in alarm as the knight pushed his chair back to get to his feet. Hand falling to the hilt of his sword, Arthur jumped up and whirled around to the source of the noise- only to find that Merlin had just dropped the pitcher of wine on his way to Elyan's seat.

" _Mer_ lin," he said, letting out a breath of hair he hadn't realized he had been holding. As his hand fell from his sword, however, he realized that although there was no threat, something was wrong.

Merlin was standing a few feet from the table, shards of broken pitcher lying in puddles of wine at his feet. His eyes were fixed on the wall across from him, but they were glazed and unaware. His entire body seemed to be swaying slightly as though in some invisible breeze.

Although he was the furthest from him, it was Arthur who got there first as Merlin's knees gave out, and it was Arthur who caught him before he could fall face first into the broken shards.

"Merlin." Arthur's heart was pounding in his chest as he carefully dragged Merlin away from the dangerous mess and eased him to the floor. His servant was completely unconscious, hair matted to his forehead by sweat Arthur hadn't realized was there until know. It glinted in the firelight as Arthur laid him out on the floor, watching his head loll.

Gwaine knelt down on Merlin's other side, and Arthur glanced up briefly to see that all the knights were gathered around them, panic scrawled across their faces. Gwaine was the only one who looked semi-collected. He placed a hand on Merlin's forehead and then his cheek.

"He's burning up," he said, moving his eyes up to grimly meet Arthur's.

"But..." That wasn't right. If Merlin was sick, Merlin would have told him. He often complained to Arthur about illness or fatigue, and although he was only trying to cop out of his duties half the time, Arthur wasn't unreasonable. If his servant was really unwell he would have given him the day off. This meeting definitely hadn't been worth lying about and passing out.

"Elyan," Arthur said, his voice coming out surprisingly calm, "I need you to go and get Gaius. Tell him-"

At that moment the door flew open and the physician himself hobbled in, breathing heavily. His eyes scanned the room, confused, and then his gaze fell on the party gathered on the floor. His face drained of more color than Arthur thought was possible.

"Merlin," he murmured, hurrying across the room and falling to his knees beside his ward. He reached out and felt his face as Gwaine had done, and then his fingers dropped to his neck. Arthur's heart skipped a beat. He was checking for a pulse.

"What happened?" Gaius demanded to the room.

Arthur opened his mouth, but his throat was suddenly too dry to say anything. It was Percival who spoke up.

"He passed out not two minutes ago," he said.

They were all brought back to Merlin when the boy stirred. His face was pinched in pain, and he twisted his head from side to side as though trying to shake something off of it.

"What's wrong with him, Gaius?" Arthur's voice came out small and not very regal at all, but he was beyond caring.

"No," Gaius murmured as a response. He reached out and started fumbling with Merlin's jacket, unbuttoning it before moving on to his shirt. "No, no, please, no..."

"Gaius?" Arthur's voice was nothing but a squeak now.

As Gaius drew up Merlin's shirt everyone assembled gasped in surprise. Gaius let out a low moan and looked away, but Arthur couldn't tear his eyes away from his friend's chest.

There was a giant wound in the center of it, raw and painful looking, but that wasn't the part that made Arthur's blood run cold. The scariest part was the purple veins snaking out from the center of it, extending at least six inches out, crawling from the injury and towards his neck and limbs.

 **A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! It's so helpful to get feedback, so thank you so much. Quick update because I'm going away for a few days and won't be able to write anymore until I get back. I hope you enjoyed!**


	3. Chapter 3

"What the hell is that?"

The room was silent except for the crackling of the fire, which carried on peacefully in its grate. All assembled had their eyes glued to Merlin's prone form.

"Gaius," Arthur repeated, his voice forcefully subdued, " _what the hell is that_?"

The physician didn't seem to be capable of speech. He was the only one to have looked away from Merlin, instead staring at the ground. He shook his head, opening his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted by a groan and immediately bent over his ward again.

"Merlin?"

Merlin's eyes were moving underneath their lids. The knights watched as he slowly dragged them open, blinking blearily up at Gaius. Gaius's face was drawn and showed no relief that Merlin was waking. On the contrary, he seemed to have lost even more color in the few minutes he had been here.

"Gaius?" The word was slurred and croaky. Merlin shifted, wincing as the movement pulled at his chest. "Gaius?"

Gaius continued to sit, staring down at Merlin and making no move to respond. Arthur glanced at him, irritation clogging his throat. Merlin was lying there, struggling and confused, and Gaius had gone into shutdown mode.

"Merlin." Arthur leaned in closer as Merlin dragged his eyes away from Gaius and noticed him for the first time. The sight of the king leaning over him seemed to bring some clarity to the servant, who blinked away some of the glossiness in his eyes. "How do you feel?"

"I feel... fine," Merlin said, shaking his head. He started to sit up and was met with a chorus of "Whoa's!" from the surrounding knights. Arthur put his hands on Merlin's shoulders and firmly but gently pushed him back to the ground. Merlin tipped his head back to meet the stone, letting his eyes slip shut again with a small groan.

"For god's sake, Merlin, you're not 'fine'. Stay where you are, okay? Gaius, what the hell is going on?"

In response Gaius just moved in closer to Merlin and said, "How do you feel, Merlin?" His tone carried the same authority it always did in medical situations, but there was something else there- resignation- that made Arthur shift uncomfortably. It was never good when a physician sounded like that, especially Gaius, who never gave up on his patients.

"My head," Merlin mumbled, eyes still closed. Arthur felt a prickle of annoyance. So he responded truthfully to Gaius, but not him? "And my... my chest. I don't know what happened, Gaius, I was just standing there and-"

"You passed out, mate."

Merlin opened his eyes to look at Gwaine, who was looking at his friend with open worry.

"Oh," Merlin mumbled. "Sorry."

Gwaine glanced at Arthur, and the king was surprised to see a flash of what looked like anger there. But a moment later Gwaine's attention was back on Merlin, leaving Arthur wondering whether he had imagined it.

"Don't apologize, Merlin," Gwaine said. "What the hell happened to your chest?"

"Chest?"

"It looks like someone tried to burn their way through it. How'd you do that to yourself?"

There were more shouts of surprise as Merlin shot into a sitting position. Arthur's hands flew to his servant's shoulders in the hopes of steadying him, but Merlin was suddenly looking at them all with newfound alertness. His shirt had slipped down, successfully hiding the wound again. Arthur's eyes strayed uneasily to it, wondering how long the thin fabric had been hiding such a ghastly injury.

"It's nothing," Merlin said almost mechanically.

"Nothing!" Elyan shook his head in disbelief. "Merlin, that's one of the craziest injuries that I've ever seen. It must hurt like hell!"

Instead of responding to the knight Merlin turned his head to Gaius, who was still kneeling beside him. He frowned at the expression on his mentor's face.

"Gaius?" he asked. A look of realization passed his face and Arthur felt him stiffen. That's when the king realized he was still holding onto Merlin's shoulders, and instead of giving into his first instinct and giving them a small squeeze of support, he dropped his arms lamely and sat back to watch the proceedings from a short distance.

"Gaius," Merlin repeated, "what did you find out?"

"It was the Heredi." Gaius's voice was barely louder than the flickering fire.

All of the knights glanced at each other, exchanging equally blank looks, but a shadow passed over Merlin's face.

"The Heredi," he said. "I've heard of that."

"You've probably... come across it," Gaius said, glancing briefly at Arthur. Arthur bristled. He was getting sick of people looking at him like they were hiding something. "Its... its sting is highly poisonous, Merlin. Deadly. The cure is almost impossible to find."

Confusion and irritation was building in the back of Arthur's throat. He was on the verge of demanding to know what was going on once and for all, but a quick glance at Merlin stilled him. His manservant looked simultaneously vacant and more grounded than Arthur had ever seen him, his expression so serious and closed off he was rendered unrecognizable from his usual excited and collected mannerisms. His blue eyes slowly strayed away from Gaius, who was watching him with what Arthur recognized as devastation- Arthur had unfortunately had too much experience with the feeling himself not to recognize it.

"Oh," Merlin said softly, "I'm dying."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Merlin barely registered the explosive outbursts surrounding him. He knew that none of this made any sense to the knights but that was the last thing in his mind right now. Everything was coming together in his mind, wrapped up in a nice little bow: the purple veins creeping out _were_ toxins. The headaches that he'd been experiencing all day, the fatigue, the nausea- that was the poison eating away at his nervous system. Merlin was dying.

He felt surprisingly calm about the situation, but he wasn't sure if that was just shock or enough experience at death's door talking.

"What do you mean dying?"

Everyone stopped talking at the king's words, all the knights breaking off their confused chatter to look at the monarch. Arthur, who hadn't said a word for a full minute, was staring at Merlin, eyes wide and lips drawn. He could have been a statue for all the emotion he had in his expression.

Those were the first words that seemed to pop Merlin's bubble. The servant slowly turned to look at Arthur, expression just as blank as the king's. As soon as his eyes found Arthur's, something cracked inside Merlin and a small amount of fear flooded in for the first time.

He opened his mouth, but there was nothing to say so he closed it again.

"The beast that attacked you on the hunt yesterday," Gaius said to the empty room. Merlin dropped his eyes from Arthur's, unable to bear the scrutiny anymore. "It was called a Heredi. It's a magical beast, but its existence has never been proven until now. I was always taught that it was a myth told by paranoid forest dwellers." The physician shifted into a more comfortable position, mournful eyes still fixed on the ground. "It only shoots relatively harmless fire until it is killed, upon which point it releases its last defense: a sting that infects the killer with a highly concentrated magical poison that floods the body, spreading from the point of impact to the vital organs. It's a sort of revenge upon the person who dealt the final blow."

"But I killed it." Arthur's voice sounded empty. "I killed the beast, Merlin didn't do it."

"You were unconscious, Arthur," Merlin said quietly. "I was the only one still standing when the beast went down."

"But _I_ killed it," Arthur repeated. He turned to his knights, a look of desperation on his face. "I killed it, I'm the one it was trying to hit."

"Arthur." Merlin's voice was firm now. "You can't blame yourself, you didn't-"

"I should have gotten hit!" Arthur got to his feet and walked to the other side of the room, suddenly brimming with anger. The knights got to their feet warily, watching their king, but Merlin stayed on the ground.

"Arthur, stop," he said, but his calm voice only seemed to infuriate Arthur further. The king struck out at one of the chairs, punching it and sending it clattering to the ground. The sound echoed through the small room and Elyan glanced at the door, hoping that the guards wouldn't come marching in. He wasn't sure how the king would react to an intrusion like that at the moment.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Arthur roared, whirling on Merlin. His face was screwed up in anger, eyes flashing in the dim lighting. Leon and Percival took a step forward, looking ready to subdue the king, but Merlin didn't bat an eye.

"I didn't know," he said.

"You were in pain!" Arthur shouted. "I knew you were in pain, I saw you and I asked you but- why the hell were you still standing, Merlin?"

"I didn't know, Arthur."

"YOU SHOULD HAVE." Arthur lashed out at the fallen chair again, kicking it so hard the arm splintered. Merlin watched him, trying not to show his surprise at the reaction. He had expected the king to be upset, but he had never seen Arthur so unhinged. It was frightening, but if Merlin got riled up as well he was afraid Arthur would only spiral further into whatever strange funk he was in. So Merlin sat there, watching Arthur rage, and waited.

Arthur stood with his back to the others, chest heaving as he breathed. He lifted his foot as though preparing to kick the chair again and then stopped. He spun around and fixed his glare on Gaius.

"What's the cure?"

Gaius looked as though he had been expecting the question. He shook his head, looking ancient in the near darkness. "Sire, there-"

"You said it was almost impossible to find." Arthur's eyes were narrowed calculatingly. " _Almost_. Tell me the cure, Gaius."

"Sire-"

"TELL ME!"

"Arthur!"

Arthur spun on Merlin and the anger sapped out of his face. Everyone had been so fixated on Arthur they hadn't noticed Merlin getting shakily to his feet. Gwaine reached for Merlin, laying a hand on his arm as though to help him, but Merlin shrugged him off. He stared at Arthur. For a long time they stood there with their eyes locked, servant and king on opposite sides of the room, silence and unspoken promises heavy between them.

"What's the cure, Gaius?" Arthur asked in a soft voice, his eyes not leaving Merlin's.

"Only the druids know."

"The druids?" Merlin turned to Gaius with a frown. The physician was still on the ground, and Merlin felt a surge of guilt. He had been so focused on Arthur he hadn't stopped to thing how hard being the bearer of this news must be to Gaius.

"Yes," said Gaius as Merlin slowly knelt down beside him. He reached out a hand and Gaius latched onto it, squeezing it with both of his own as though afraid if he eased up his ward would dissipate into nothing. Gaius took a deep breath that rattled in his chest and continued, his voice heavy. "The only written account of the Heredi was recorded by the druids. In it they list the description and symptoms of the sting. For a long time it was regarded as just a piece of their lore, but if it really exists... the druids are the only one who will know the antidote."

"What does the book say?" Merlin asked, squeezing Gaius's hand comfortingly.

"The cure listed says nothing but 'home remedy'."

"That's a stupid thing to put in an informational book," Gwaine said, speaking for the first time since learning of Merlin's status. His face was pale, but he still had enough grip on his emotions to look mildly amused.

"You have to understand that this book was not intended for outsiders," Gaius said. "It was written by the druids for the druids. It only fell into our hands on accident. There are so many different tribes of druids surrounding Camelot, I'm sure each of them would have had their own cure."

"So how do we know which one to go to?" Arthur asked.

All eyes turned to him. Arthur, who had spoken with such firm bravado, blinked at the incredulous expressions greeting him. A bit of doubt flooded into his face.

"What?" he asked defensively.

"Arthur," Merlin said in a slow voice, "are you saying...?" He shook his head firmly. "You can't go to the druids."

"And why not?" Arthur crossed his arms and glared at Merlin. "We need to get you the antidote, and-"

"Arthur, you are the king of Camelot." Merlin let go of Gaius's hand and got to his feet, expression suddenly hard. "You're the head of the mission to persecute magic and you think you're about to go marching into a magical encampment of druids? You were just talking about trying them for treason!"

"Circumstances have changed," Arthur said shortly. "If it's the only way-"

"You're going to be breaking every law that _you_ wrote-"

"I'm the bloody king, I can do whatever I want even if-"

"There's no way the druids are going to _let_ you-"

"I'll make them let me, I'll-"

"Arthur, I'm not worth that!"

Arthur took a step back as though he'd been slapped in the face. Merlin drew up short as well. He hadn't meant to say it, but he could tell that Arthur was about to fall down a mountain that would carry him right to his destruction at the bottom. Merlin couldn't let him go to any druid camp; it was suicide for a king that had been persecuting their kind for years.

"What?" Arthur's voice was soft but hard.

"I'm not worth getting yourself killed," Merlin said firmly. He looked away from Arthur; he wouldn't be able to keep going if he had to maintain eye contact. "If you go to the druid camp, who knows how they'll react? They're a peaceful people but Camelot has taken so many lives from them. I'm not worth the risk, I'm just a servant-"

"You aren't just a servant."

Merlin stopped again. He turned back to Arthur to see that the king was still looking at him. Although Merlin was normally proud of his ability to read Arthur's moods, his expression was unfathomable even to Merlin.

"Gaius." Arthur turned to the physician, who had gotten to his feet and had been watching with the rest of the knights. They were all steadfastly looking away, trying not to intrude upon what was obviously a private moment- all except for Gwaine, who was glaring at Arthur. Merlin frowned at his friend, wondering what Arthur had done to elicit such a reaction. "How far is the nearest druid camp?"

"There is one deep in the forest that maintains a lenient attitude towards Camelot. It's about a four day ride."

"Alright, that's doable. And how long until..." Arthur trailed off, leaving the question hanging. Merlin touched his chest; was that a stab of pain he felt, or was he just imagining things now?

Gaius was quiet for a few seconds. Then he said, "The poison takes three days to spread."

"What?" Gwaine dropped the glare and turned to Gaius, face slack. Merlin's limbs went numb, and he was momentarily dizzy with sudden fear. "But it's already been-"

"However," Gaius interrupted, "there's something different about Merlin's situation. The book lists a very detailed progression of symptoms. According to them, Merlin should have a deliriously high fever and be half comatose by now."

"But I'm not," Merlin said slowly.

"Exactly." Gaius turned to him and stepped forward, placing a hand on Merlin's forehead again. "You're warm, but it's only a very mild fever. For some reason the symptoms of the poison are progressing at a slower rate for you; you're still in stage one. I'd put your new timeline at around six days."

"Six days," Arthur said, mostly to himself. He nodded. "That means we have five days left. That's plenty to work with. Merlin, you and I are leaving in the morning."

"You, Merlin, and Gwaine, you mean," Gwaine said, stepping forward and glaring at Arthur again. He seemed to be waiting for Arthur to argue, but Arthur took it in stride.

"Alright," he said, "you, Gwaine, and I-"

"And Elyan."

Arthur turned to the knight, who stared back at Arthur, nonplussed. The king started shaking his head. "We can't all-"

"And Elyan."

"Elyan-"

"I'm going, Arthur. You're marching into a druid encampment; you're going to need all the backup you can get."

Percival nodded, his face determined. Leon looked ready to throw in his support as well, but Merlin interrupted.

"You can't," he said. "Think about how the druids will react if all of Camelot's best fighters come marching in with their swords drawn. They're actually more likely to keep things peaceful if the group is kept to one or two people. It's safest if I go alone-"

"No!" everyone shouted at the same time. Merlin, taken aback, shut his mouth and twisted his face into something that looked close to a pout.

"But-" he protested.

"I won't hear of it," Arthur said. He set his jaw and stared Merlin down. "If you're going to drop into a coma halfway there-"

"Gaius said I had six days-"

"You have five days left, Merlin, and besides, I don't trust your directional skills. You'll get yourself hopelessly lost-"

"I will _not_ , I have a great sense of direction, it's you who's always-"

"Merlin, shut up- that's an order."

Merlin fell silent and contented himself with glaring at Arthur, who smirked at him.

"So it'll be just me and Merlin," Arthur decided.

"I'm going," Gwaine said. When Arthur looked ready to protest, he snapped, "Don't even try and stop me, princess, because it won't work. Merlin's my friend and I refuse to sit here and do nothing while he's in trouble."

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "I could order you to stay, Gwaine."

"You act like you think that will stop me, _Sire._ "

Percival stepped forward and put a warning hand on Gwaine's shoulder, but the knight shook him off and continued his stare down with the king. Arthur straightened and regarded Gwaine as an awkward silence settled over the room. Gwaine had basically said that he would disobey a direct order from the king if it came to it, something that was against the knight's code of honor and technically treason.

"Gwaine-" Merlin said quietly, wringing his hands.

"Shut up, Merlin," Gwaine said without looking at him.

There was a long silence. Then, Arthur said, "Alright." The others all looked surprised that he had backed down without a fight, but Gwaine just looked satisfied with himself. "Merlin, Gwaine, and I will leave first thing tomorrow morning. Elyan, go and tell the stable hands to prepare horses for us."

"Yes, Sire." Elyan nodded his head once and hurried out of the room.

"Percival, Leon, you're dismissed for the night. Thank you."

Percival and Leon murmured their own respectful partings and followed Elyan. The heavy door fell shut behind them with a resounding boom, leaving the four remaining men in a tense silence.

Merlin stared into the fire. He was a little too close to the flames for comfort; the heat was making him feel slightly claustrophobic, but he had been freezing for the last few minutes and saw it as a marked improvement. He took a long, slow breath and wrapped his arms around himself, trying to keep calm. An hour again he had been perfectly fine. Injured, but fine. Now, however, he had an expiration date hanging over his head, and he was about to lead two of his closest friends right into the heart of a druid camp, where there was a high probability that they would be killed. All in all, it wasn't one of his best days.

"Merlin?"

He felt a hand on his elbow and turned to see Gaius standing there. The physician's face was full of worry and Merlin felt guilt for putting him through this. Why did he always end up having such a harmful impact on the people he cared about?

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts he didn't hear what Gaius was saying. Blinking a few times, he fixed his gaze on Gaius's face and said, "Huh?"

Gaius pursed his lips and reached up to feel Merlin's forehead again. Merlin shut his eyes, relishing the cool touch. That was funny; hadn't he been cold thirty seconds ago?

"I said you need to sit down," Gaius said. Gently pulling on Merlin's elbow, he led him over to the table, where Arthur and Gwaine were already seated and discussing the journey tomorrow.

"Gaius," Arthur said as the physician helped Merlin sit down.

"Sire?"

"We need to know the timeline of Merlin's sickness. You said he's only in stage one; what should we expect?"

"Well," Gaius said, sitting down next to Merlin, "stage one is self explanatory. He's experiencing dizziness, nausea, and the occasional fainting spell. That should last through tomorrow. Then, as his fever slowly increases he'll start to become delirious."

"Great," Merlin muttered, burying his face in his hands. He pressed his palms to his eyes and sighed, unaware of Arthur frowning at him. He was so focused on the feeling of his cold hands on his face he had to struggle to comprehend what was being said around him.

"That's stage two, and it will be accompanied by worsening pain as the poison spreads. That should last about two days and be followed by stage three, where Merlin will feel much better."

"Huh?" Gwaine was leaning back in his chair, boots kicked up on the table. He pushed his hair out of his face and peered at Gaius. "What do you mean better? Wouldn't that be the day before he bites it?"

"At that point the toxins would have permeated his nervous system, leaving him feeling mostly numb. Most of his symptoms will alleviate and he'll be much more coherent than in the previous stage."

"And then?" Arthur asked, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at the table.

Gaius hesitated. He glanced at Merlin, who hadn't lifted his head, then said, "After that he will fall into a comatose state and slip away."

The four were quiet. Then Merlin raised his head, a tiny grin on his face, and said, "At least the poison's nice enough to give me a day of clarity before killing me."

"It's not going to kill you," Arthur said. He stood up, his chair scraping the stone floor, and said, "We leave tomorrow at daybreak." Then he turned and marched out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

"Always a flair for dramatics, that one," Gwaine said, examining his fingernails. "Can't exit a room without getting the final word."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Arthur hurled the pillow across the room. It hit the wall with a soft thump and slid harmlessly to the ground, causing the king to roar in outrage.

"Arthur, please!"

Guinivere came forward and grabbed Arthur's arm as he reached for another pillow. He spun on her, expression twisted in anger, and then caught sight of her wide eyes and tear-stained cheeks. That gave him pause and enough presence of mind to take a breath. Guinivere, feeling him relax under her touch, stepped closer to slowly wrapped her arms around him, tucking her head into his chest. After a moment Arthur brought his arms up as well, pulling her close and squeezing her tightly.

"It's not fair," he mumbled into her curly hair. "I'm the one who killed it."

"Please, sweetheart, you can't blame yourself. This is not your fault."

"It is. I took Merlin on that trip, I dragged him out there even though he has no experience in combat-"

"Merlin accompanies you everywhere, Arthur, this trip was no different. It was just an accident, a mistake."

"And now he's going to pay for my mistake with his life."

"Arthur." Guinivere drew back and looked her husband in the face, reaching up and cupping his cheek. He leaned into her touch, squeezing his eyes shut to hold back the tears he felt brimming there. _He would not cry._

"Listen to me," Guinivere whispered. "You cannot blame yourself for this. Merlin knows the risks of being your manservant- of being your friend. Life is dangerous and people get hurt sometimes, but Merlin is _not_ going to die."

"How do you know that?" Arthur's voice came out a whisper as well. "What if I can't convince the druids to help? What if I can't-"

"You will. You know why?" Guinivere tilted her head up and smiled at him even though her bottom lip was trembling. She had taken the news very poorly, but had held it together to help her husband through his own emotions. Arthur felt a flicker of guilt as he looked down into her repressed grief. He wasn't the only one on the cusp of losing a friend. "Because you will do whatever it takes to save Merlin, and you'll succeed. You always do."

Arthur held her gaze, eyebrows creased. Then he sighed and bent down to press a long kiss to her forehead. "I love you," he murmured against her skin.

"I love you, too." She pulled back and ran her eyes over his face, taking in his tired, worn expression. "Come to bed. You need to get some sleep for tomorrow."

"Alright, I'll be right there."

Guinivere took his hand and squeezed it once more before turning away. Her nightgown trailed on the stones behind her, the candlelight reflecting off of the silk. Arthur watched her, a calmness he hadn't felt all evening finally settling over him, then turned and walked to the window, peering outside into the darkness.

His kingdom was asleep under the half moon. The faint outlines of buildings were silhouetted against the inky night sky, which was pierced with a few stars peeking through the clouds not visible from the ground. There were a few lights dotting the streets here and there, but at this hour almost everyone had retired for the night.

Clutching the cold stone, Arthur shut his eyes and leaned out to feel the cool breeze on his face. Unwillingly, he found his mind running through the events that had transpired that evening. The thought of Merlin lying in his chambers, fever-ridden and in pain, made his chest physically ache. He had barely been able to look when Merlin had been lying there, unconscious and struggling. It had been unnatural to see his servant- his _friend_ \- in such a vulnerable state. Arthur had never really felt particularly protective over Merlin, but now he felt the need to have him under supervision at all times to make sure he wasn't going to take a turn for the worse in the middle of the night. How was he supposed to bear watching him delirious and suffering for the next few days?

And if the druids refused to help them, how could he bear watching him die?

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"I don't understand it."

"Merlin, you need to sit down and get some rest."

"But it doesn't make sense!"

Merlin paced back and forth, sidestepping buckets of potion ingredients Gaius had set aside for him to clean up. He knew that Gaius was probably panicking in the corner as he walked around, stumbling every once in a while when a bout of dizziness hit, but he had too much energy to sit at the moment. Everything that had happened that night had finally caught up to him, and as his mind worked to understand it all his body ached to do something about it.

"I'm supposed to be dead tomorrow," Merlin said, placing his hand on the work table and pausing as the ground rolled underneath him. He shut his eyes, speaking as he waited for it to pass. "But for some reason the poison is moving slower. Why?"

"There has been very little research on this creature. Perhaps they simply got it wrong."

"But this is the druids. They don't get stuff like this wrong."

When his feet felt stable again he started pacing again. Gaius sighed loudly.

"I have a theory," he said.

Merlin whirled around so fast he didn't have time to reach out and catch himself as his head threw him off balance. Gaius shouted in alarm as he fell. Merlin reached out a hand to catch himself, landing hard on the stones and sending pain up through his wrists and knees. He squeezed his eyes shut, biting back a shout as his balance struggled to right itself once more.

"Are you alright, Merlin?"

"I'm fine," Merlin said, letting Gaius guide him into a sitting position. He pushed himself back against the table, pressing his spine against the wooden leg, and took a moment to settle back down again.

"You need to rest," Gaius said firmly, one hand still on Merlin's shoulder.

"What's your theory, Gaius?"

"Merlin-"

"Please."

Merlin couldn't hide the desperation that leaked into his voice. Ashamed at his slip in emotion, he glanced at the ground, aware that Gaius was staring at him.

"I believe it's your magic."

"My magic?"

"You already know that you're extraordinary, Merlin- there has never been a person quite like you before or someone so closely tied to their magic. Because it's such an ingrained part of you I believe that it is doing its best to slow down the affects of the poison. It can't heal it without help, but it could be reacting subconsciously to the toxins and slowing it down. You've always been a fast healer for that very reason; your magic always steps in and aids you."

"That makes sense," Merlin said. He frowned, staring down at his hand. He clenched his fist, then let it fall open again. "How long can my magic support it?"

"I don't know," Gaius admitted. "Like I said, your magic is entirely new, even to me."

"Oh." They sat in silence for a few moments, Merlin still staring at his hand, Gaius staring at Merlin.

"You need to sleep," Gaius finally said. "You have a long journey tomorrow."

"Alright." He let Gaius help him up, moving gingerly in order to keep his balance. Gaius kept a firm hold on Merlin as they walked through the cramped chambers, refusing to let go even as they were forced to squeeze in between tables and chairs.

Gaius's foot bumped a stool piled with books and loose sheets of paper. As the stack teetered, Merlin instinctually reached out with his magic to steady it, wearily shuffling on with Gaius in the direction of his chambers. A resounding thud made both of them jump.

Merlin turned back around to see the pile of fallen books. He stood there, staring at it, while Gaius placed a hand on his shoulder and tried to guide him back around again.

"I'll pick it up, Merlin," he murmured, but Merlin's attention was still on the books.

"Rǽdee ásce geotan," Merlin said, pointing his hand at the debris. He waited for the papers to fly up and stack themselves neatly back on the chair as he had done so many times to compensate for his clumsiness, but the pages and books remained motionless on the floor.

"Merlin," Gaius said, but Merlin spun on his heel and pointed at a pestle and mortar lying on the table.

"Onbregdan!" he snapped. Nothing. He pointed at a pair of Gaius's slippers. "Bestepe scós!"

"Merlin!"

Merlin turned to Gaius, heart pounding. For the first time that night he felt real panic coursing through his veins.

"Gaius," he said, "my magic isn't working."

"You need to lie down, Merlin-"

"Inbringe cume mec!"

"Merlin!" Gaius grabbed Merlin's arm and pushed it back down to his side. He turned and guided Merlin towards the stairs that led to his tiny bedroom, and this time Merlin didn't fight it.

"Your magic is busy," Gaius said as they shuffled up the stairs. He pushed open the door, letting it swing loosely on its hinges as they entered the dim room. The windows were pitch black and the only light came from a single sputtering candle on the night table. "It's doing all it can to stop the poison from spreading too fast. You probably won't be able to use it at all until you've been cured."

"But I need my magic." Merlin let Gaius push him onto his bed, staring numbly at his mentor. "Gaius, I need it."

"You'll have it back soon."

"But Arthur's about to go on a four day journey to a _druid_ camp- if I don't have my magic I can't protect him!"

"Fcus on getting better first, Merlin. Arthur will be fine."

"Gaius-"

"Lay down."

Merlin slowly lowered himself down against the pillows. Gaius drew his blankets over him, tucking them in around his body. Merlin realized that he was shivering and burrowed deeper underneath the thin fabric, wishing that he had his magic to cast a heating charm on them.

"You'll get your magic back," Gaius said, the candle casting shadows on his face. He brushed Merlin's hair back, a closed expression on his face. "Get some rest. I'll wake you in the morning."

Gaius leaned over and blew out the candle. He stood and hobbled back towards the door. He was stopped by Merlin's small voice.

"What am I going to do, Gaius?"

Gaius turned back and looked at the bundle of blankets that was his ward. Merlin stared back at him, eyes wide and afraid in the darkness.

"You're going to let Arthur save the day just this once," Gaius said. "Goodnight, Merlin."

Merlin watched as he shut the door behind him, leaving him in total darkness. Alone in the silent room, he stared up at the ceiling. The blankets on him were heavy and pinned him to the mattress, but he was grateful for the heat they provided.

He felt empty without his magic. He knew that it wasn't _gone_ , but without the ability to access it it might as well have been taken from him. The thought of everything that could happen sent a sudden chill down his spine that had nothing to do with his rapidly developing fever.

For the first time in his life, Merlin was completely helpless.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Here you are, Sire."

The horse whinnied and shifted slightly, eager to go. Arthur kept a firm grip on the reins, pulling slightly to still the animal. Perched atop the saddle, he looked down and watched as Leon finished tying his bed roll to the creature. Normally a stable hand would have done it, but Arthur had ordered everyone out of the courtyard except for his knights and Guinivere. The sun had only just crested the horizon and he didn't want a big send-off that alerted everyone to the king's absence. He knew word that he was out of the kingdom would spread, but he hoped to keep it on the down low until he got back from the druid camp.

His heart jumped at the thought of the druids. After being raised his entire life to persecute magic and spending so much of his time and resources upholding the example set by his father, Arthur felt extremely uncomfortable at the thought of marching into a magical encampment. He would be an intruder on their land then and they would be fully within their rights to take revenge on him for years of their kinds' deaths. Although Arthur had taken strides during his time as king to ease back on the punishments magic practitioners faced (often choosing exile over execution when it came to non-violent users) he couldn't get around the fact that it was written in the laws of Camelot that magic be punished. Now he was about to renege on everything he had ever preached during his rule.

Then he glanced at Merlin and felt his resolve strengthen. His manservant was slumped atop his horse, eyes drooping, reigns held very loosely. It had taken Gwaine, Percival _and_ Elyan to get Merlin onto the horse as he kept nearly toppling off every time he got his leg onto the other side. Normally Arthur would have poked fun at him, but one look at the despair on Merlin's pale face when he realized how weak he had gotten overnight stilled his tongue.

"Thank you, Leon," Arthur said as Leon stepped back and bowed his head. Arthur turned to his other side where Guinivere was standing, head held high but eyes glowing with worry.

"Be safe," she whispered, reaching up and grabbing his hand. Arthur squeezed her fingers, wishing that he could hop down and kiss her but aware that they were running on Merlin's borrowed time. If he got her in his arms he was afraid he would never let go.

With reluctance he released her hand and watched her walk over to Merlin. She had already exchanged her goodbyes with him, stressing that it was only temporary, but Arthur understood that she was afraid she would never see him again. He turned away as she reached up to him, tears slipping down her cheeks. He couldn't watch the exchange.

The clop of hooves next to him made him look up to see Gwaine sitting there. He had already been saddled and waiting when Arthur had arrived in the courtyard that morning, and now his posture screamed impatience.

"Ready, sire?" he asked. His horse, a black mare named Gwyneth, brayed as though mirroring her rider's eagerness.

Arthur nodded once and turned back around, relieved to find that Guinivere was standing with Gaius on the steps. Physician and queen stood arm in arm watching as Percival and Elyan led Merlin's horse over to Arthur and Gwaine, their faces betraying their worry as they glanced up at the manservant.

"Be careful," Elyan warned the group.

"When are we ever not careful?" Gwaine asked. He flicked his hair back. "We need to get going. The sun is rising quickly."

"We'll see you soon, Merlin," Elyan said, reaching up and patting Merlin's knee. The servant smiled wanly as Percival mirrored Elyan's movement on his other side, a kind smile on his face.

As the three set off out of the courtyard Arthur resisted the urge to turn back around in his seat and look at the castle, but Merlin twisted in his saddle and watched until they turned a corner and the courtyard disappeared from sight. When he faced front again his face was set with worry.

"Alright, Merlin?" Gwaine asked, his voice purposefully light.

"My head hurts," Merlin muttered.

"Yeah, well, you got poisoned. Suck it up."

Merlin shot Gwaine a look. Arthur glanced sideways at his servant.

"Ready to get healed?" he asked.

"I'm ready to try."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The witch's tangled black hair brushed the surface of the water as she turned away from her scrying bowl. She narrowed her eyes at the worn stone wall, mind running through everything that she had seen.

"So Arthur's leaving Camelot," she said musingly to herself, "without the protection of his knights. Interesting."

Morgana would just need to keep an eye on that.

 **A/N: Long chapter but I wanted to fit everything in. Thanks for all the reviews so far; please continue to leave your feedback! It helps to know that people want me to continue. Thanks for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

Merlin's eyes shot open as his horse hit a particularly uneven patch on the trail. He shook himself, blinking away the fog that had crept up on him, and wondered how long he'd been out. They had only been riding for a couple of hours and he was already nodding off. Luckily, he had managed to catch himself each time before he toppled off his horse, but he figured it was only a matter of time before he ended up cracking his skull.

 _At least that'll be a quicker death than from a painful coma_ , he thought morbidly.

Gwaine and Arthur were riding ahead of him. At first they had insisted that Merlin go first so they could keep an eye on him from behind (probably to make sure he _didn't_ fall off and crack his skull), but their pace had been so slow that way they had consented to let him follow behind. His horse was well trained; all he had to do was hold onto the reins and it stayed on course, keeping a steady pace that matched the horses in front of him. That meant that Merlin could zone out for long stretches of time- which was fine by him, as he had a lot to think about.

He stared at Arthur's back, frowning at the worn leather jacket. Per Guinivere's advice Arthur had dressed himself down in an effort to appear humbler before the druids. Merlin knew that the druids wouldn't have been awed by Arthur even if he had shown up in solid gold armor, but he hadn't been able to offer his own input as Arthur had, for the first time, dressed himself alone that morning. Merlin hadn't even seen him until he had arrived in the courtyard. It had been odd to see the king standing there, fully clothed and awake despite Merlin's absence. Merlin wasn't used to him being able to behave like an adult, let alone a functioning one.

His horse took another rough step and he winced as the movement sent pain coursing through his chest. It was even more painful than yesterday, but Gaius had warned him that it would only get worse from here. It wasn't exactly a comforting thought.

He saw Arthur glance over his shoulder and a strange look crossed the king's face. Merlin narrowed his eyes as Arthur pulled on his reins, slowing his horse and falling back to where Merlin was trotting. He had been trying to read Arthur's thoughts all day but he found that for the very first time in their relationship he couldn't guess what the man was feeling. It was throwing him off even more than the thought of Arthur getting up on his own in the morning.

"Merlin," Arthur said as he slowed beside Merlin, "how do you feel?"

"Fine."

"How do you really feel?"

Merlin pursed his lips and stared straight ahead. Arthur had exchanged a few words with Gaius before leaving, and the physician had apparently instructed Arthur to never let him say he was in anything but the worst pain, even if Merlin really did feel alright.

"It hurts a little, I guess."

"Want to take a break?"

"What happened to 'speed is everything'?"

"We're making good time." Arthur craned his neck and peered up through the trees, squinting at the steadily rising sun. "We can afford to stop and rest for a few minutes."

Merlin was about to protest when his horse moved unevenly again, sending a flash of sharp pain through his torso. He sucked in a breath of air, shutting his eyes and wrapping an arm around his midsection, and immediately Arthur's hands were on his horse's reigns and pulling him to a stop.

"Gwaine? We're taking a break."

"I'm fine, Arthur," Merlin said irritably as Gwaine pulled back and swung himself off his horse.

"For someone with a fever you certainly are complaining a lot," the knight said, grinning at Merlin as he brushed himself off.

Merlin rolled his eyes and braced himself to dismount. Taking a deep breath, he swung his leg over and dropped to the ground like he had done a million times before, hoping that doing it quickly and getting it over with would be the best route to take. When he hit the ground, his legs, already weak from fever, threatened to give out underneath him and probably would have if strong hands hadn't caught him under his arms.

"Here we go."

Merlin felt himself lowered to the ground and looked up to see Arthur helping him. He repressed a flash of shame and instead focused on how amazingly stable the ground was. He never cared much for riding horses at the best of times, but he hadn't realized how uncomfortable he had been until then.

Gwaine and Arthur led the horses to a nearby tree and tied them up loosely to keep them in one place before returning with the water skin, which Gwaine passed over to Merlin. Merlin eagerly opened it. He had been parched for the past hour, but all the water had been in Arthur's saddlebags.

"Slow down, Merlin, you'll make yourself sick. Well- sicker," Gwaine said with a fleeting smile, watching his friend gulp down water as though he had been lost in the desert for years.

Merlin lowered the skin, wiping off his mouth. He passed it off to Arthur, who started to take a drink and then stopped.

"You drank most of it," Arthur said, swishing the liquid around to judge how much was left. Merlin could tell from the hollow sloshing that he had left barely anything.

Merlin frowned. "Sorry."

"Don't be." He glanced at the sky again. "We probably won't make it to more water today."

A wave of guilt washed over Merlin. He glanced down at the ground. "Sorry," he repeated.

"Stop saying sorry, Merlin, you sound like an idiot."

"Sorry."

Merlin glanced up at Arthur's incredulous expression and felt his lips quirk up into a grin despite himself. The king rolled his eyes, but Merlin saw a tiny smirk on his face.

"So we're a little bit ahead of schedule," Gwaine said, shifting so he was lying out flat on the ground. He stretched, face pinching as he arched his back. "But we need to keep moving as fast as we can. This is going to be our best traveling day since Merlin's going to be hallucinating by morning."

Merlin glared at Gwaine, but his friend's eyes were shut. He didn't need reminding of his upcoming uselessness every few minutes, especially when he had spent the majority of the trip so far worrying that a magical creature would jump the defenseless party at any moment. Never before had he been so powerless in his quest to protect Arthur; even though his power had been limited during his first few months in Camelot, he had been too drunk on the idea of his destiny to really contemplate how little he had known at the time. He hadn't realized how much he had come to depend upon his magic for- well, everything.

"You're right." Arthur glanced up at the trees again, tracking the sun's slow progress through the sky. A tiny frown line Merlin had never seen before appeared on his forehead, and the warlock stared for a moment. Since when did Arthur have _frown lines_? "Merlin, are you alright to keep going?"

It took Merlin a moment to realize Arthur was talking to him. "Huh?"

What normally would have been used as ammunition to prove Merlin's stupidity instead elicited poorly concealed worry from Arthur, who glanced at his servant in concern. Merlin quite resented that; he wasn't comatose _yet._

"Yeah," he said, "I'm fine."

"Great." Gwaine clapped his hands together as he sat up. "Let's get moving."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The flames heated the soles of Arthur's boots to an uncomfortable temperature, but he refused to drag his feet away. Instead he sat where he was, perched on a rough log Gwaine had dragged over, staring into the shoddily made fire (it turned out the art of stacking firewood was a lot more difficult than Merlin made it out to be).

At the thought of his manservant Arthur's stomach gave an uncomfortable leap. He glanced over to their makeshift camp, where they had lain out their bed rolls in preparation for the night. Merlin was already curled up on Arthur's, back turned towards the fire and rich purple blankets drawn up to his chin. The man had been startled by Arthur's insistence that they swap bed rolls, initially refusing, but had given in only out of sheer exhaustion.

Arthur turned back to the fire and glared at it. Behind him he heard Gwaine rifling as quietly as possible through their cooking supplies.

"This is the thingy, right?" he asked.

Arthur turned on his log to look at the wooden contraption Gwaine was holding up for him to see. "I don't know, Gwaine, I've never made stew before."

"I think this is what Merlin uses."

Gwaine dragged it towards the fire and joined Arthur on the log. He set to work unfolding the wood and iron beams, which resembled a hooked spit when it was complete. Panting, Gwaine got back up and grabbed a pot he'd already set aside and cleaned out.

"Where's the water?" he asked.

"There is none," Arthur said, staring into the fire.

Gwaine narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"We have no water. Well, we have a little bit left, but it's for drinking. We couldn't find any sources around here, remember?"

Gwaine stood there for a moment, pot dangling in his hand. Then he dropped it in the dirt and stomped back over to the log, pushing aside the spit. Arthur had a feeling that he would have been making a lot more noise if Merlin hadn't been trying to sleep.

"Great," he said as he sat down. "You couldn't have told me that before I did all the damn preparations?"

"I forgot," Arthur said, eyes still on the flames. He tracked the dancing gold and red, watching them twist with the smoke and dissipate into the slowly dimming night sky. The sun was almost set, filling the sky with a brilliant mix of colors. It looked like the royal painter's color samples when he mixed the paints together to find the perfect shade of Arthur's eyes.

Gwaine glanced sideways at Arthur, the fire throwing shadows across his face. The effect was unnerving.

"You're worried," he said.

"So are you."

"Yeah, I am." Gwaine rested his elbows on his knees and looked over at Merlin. His face was thoughtful. "You really shouldn't be doing this, you know. I could have gone on my own. Or taken Elyan or Percival or someone. These druids could tear you apart with a snap of their fingers the second you walk into their camp. Why are you doing it?"

"You know why."

"No, I don't, really."

Arthur was tempted to continue staring at the fire and ignore the knight, who he was pretty sure was just running his mouth like usual, but he was never one to resist bait. He turned in his seat and glared at Gwaine. "What does that mean?"

"It means you treat Merlin like dirt," Gwaine said. He picked up a stick and started poking at the fire. His features were just as open as they always were, but his jaw was set, anticipating a fight.

Arthur's blood rushed in his ears, but he spoke in a calm voice. "I do not-"

"I know you care about him, Arthur. We all do. Everyone in the entire kingdom sees how much you two mean to each other. Everyone, I think, except Merlin."

"Merlin knows-"

"Does he?"

Arthur bit back the scathing remark that jumped to the tip of his tongue. He turned back to the fire. This was the last thing he wanted to think about right now, but it had been on his mind ever since Guinevere had made that comment a few days before. Gwaine took Arthur's silence as an invitation to continue.

"I mean, you're better to him than most nobles are to their servants, I'll give you that," he said. He poked the fire, knocking a log out of place and sending embers coiling into the air. "But at the end of the day that's what you treat him as: a servant. Not a friend."

"At the end of the day he is a servant."

"No disrespect intended, Sire, but you wouldn't be here if that were true."

Arthur watched Gwaine upset another log. He tried to let Gwaine's words bounce off of him- he was normally so adept at blocking the knight out- but no matter how many times he told himself that it wasn't true, that Merlin _understood_ , he couldn't get Merlin's words from last night out of his head- _I'm not worth that._ He couldn't forget the resigned look in his eyes, the set of his jaw that communicated that what he was saying was gospel to Merlin, something that he had repeated hundreds of times to himself.

Arthur had messed up with his friend. He knew it, but he might not be able to fix it this time.

"Just think about it." Gwaine tossed his stick onto the fire, oblivious to Arthur's turmoil next to him. "I just thought you should be aware of how Merlin feels, since tomorrow…"

He didn't finish, but the words rang out around them anyways. _Tomorrow there won't be any rational conversation with him._

Not that any conversation with Merlin was ever truly rational.

Gwaine got up, leaving Arthur to his thoughts. The king stared at the fire, listening to his knight rifling through every bag they had in search of food. Arthur knew he would find something. The kitchen servants never let the king leave on a trip without an adequate amount of food, especially if it was a trip designed for traveling and not hunting.

A stick snapped next to him and Arthur jumped to his feet, hand on the hilt of his sword as he turned to see Merlin standing there, sheepishly clutching a blanket around his shoulders. Arthur relaxed.

"Sorry," Merlin said, "I got bored."

"It's fine." Arthur cleared his throat and hoped that his cheeks weren't burning because of the overreaction. "Sit down, you shouldn't be up."

Merlin joined Arthur on the log. While the servant took up Arthur's role of staring at the flames, Arthur watched Merlin out of the corner of his eye, taking in his tired expression and flushed cheeks. Despite the chill in the air a film of sweat caked Merlin's dark hair to his forehead. The fever was creeping upwards.

"You really shouldn't be up," Arthur repeated with a frown.

"This is my last chance to be up for a while. Let me enjoy it."

Arthur rolled his eyes but decided not to push it. He knew when he was fighting a losing battle.

For a while neither of them spoke. Arthur kept listening to Gwaine's cheerful whistling as he assembled dinner.

"It's nice," Merlin said, still looking at the fire.

"What is?"

"Just sitting out here. Not having to worry about cooking or cleaning the dishes or getting maimed by whatever beast you're hunting."

Arthur turned to Merlin incredulously. "Merlin, you are literally _dying_ and you're happy about a day off?"

"I didn't say that," Merlin said. "I just said it's nice. It's like camping."

Arthur snorted. "When have you ever gone camping?"

"Never. I just think this is what it would be like. It's nice."

"Are you sure the delirium is supposed to set in tomorrow and not tonight?" Arthur asked, watching Merlin crane his head back to look at the stars that were starting to appear in the dusty sky.

"I'm not entirely sure at this point," he said to the rising moon.

Arthur rested his chin on his fist and continued to watch Merlin. The fire and the moonlight were both fighting for space in his eyes, resulting in an odd swirl of reflections half-covered by drooping eyelids. The tips of his ears were red with fever, but he looked more peaceful than Arthur had ever seen him. Without that goofy smile he always wore when trying to skive off duties or come up with excuses, Merlin's face was much more serious, his expressions carrying a new weight to them. Arthur almost felt that he was looking at a new version of Merlin, one that only came out at night, one that he had never noticed before.

Merlin glanced at him. His forehead crinkled. "You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Looking at me. And I can't tell what you're thinking. It's weird; I can always tell what you're thinking."

"Don't be ridiculous, I'm a closed book of secrets."

Merlin snorted, then winced and rubbed his ribs. "Whatever you say, _sire_ ," he said, his teasing tone cut with exhaustion.

Arthur looked at his feet. Even though he knew Merlin only ever used the title to poke fun at him, his mind bounced back to both Gwaine and Guinevere's words. He wanted to say something, but where was he supposed to start? He wasn't very good with this sort of thing.

Before he could force any words out of his mouth Gwaine had shoved dried meat and bread into both of their hands and collapsed on the ground next to Merlin. "Dinner," he announced, stuffing his own roll in his mouth.

Arthur wrinkled his nose. "This is it?"

"I got sick of looking for the freshly roasted goose and mashed parsnips, princess."

Arthur resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at Gwaine. Instead he tore off a piece of meat and took a bite.

"So how are you feeling, Merl?" Gwaine asked.

Merlin looked at him. "Merl?"

"What, I can't give you a nickname?"

"My name is literally Merlin. Why would you feel the need to shorten it?"

"Two syllables is one syllable too long. All strong names are one syllable. Gwaine, for example. And _Merl_."

"My name has two syllables."

"And that's why you're the only one in the kingdom named _Arthur._ "

Arthur threw a piece of bread at Gwaine, who rolled out of the way with a bark of laughter.

"Seriously," the knight said when he came back up, "how are you doing, Merlin?"

"Fine," Merlin said, tearing off a piece of bread and looking closely at it.

Gwaine raised his eyes to the stars. "To hell you-"

"Really, Gwaine, I feel alright right now," Merlin said. "I'm a little bit hot because of the fever and it hurts when I move, but I'm conscious, aren't I?"

"You at least need to eat something," Arthur said, watching Merlin roll up the piece of bread into a little ball between his fingers.

Merlin dropped the bread ball. It disappeared into the grass at his feet. "I can't," he said.

"Merlin," Gwaine said, his voice uncharacteristically stern, "you need to keep your strength up."

"No, I mean, I can't." Merlin kept his eyes fixed on the ground as though he was looking for the bread. "It will come right back up. I can't eat right now."

Gwaine glanced at Arthur. The king took another bite of his dried meat, chewing slowly, carefully, and smelled the thick smoke that sent thousands of memories flitting into his mind, thousands of other fires and camps just like this one.

"You need to drink, at least," he said at last, finishing off the rest of his bread in one bite. He stood up and walked over to the pile of supplies they had unloaded from the horses, searching for the water skin.

"I thought we'd found no water?" Merlin asked, turning on his log with a frown. The blanket was drawn more tightly around his bony shoulders now, his fingers clutching it closer to him.

Arthur emerged with the water skin and tossed it to Merlin, who caught it in clumsy hands. The servant frowned when he felt the liquid sloshing around inside.

"But-"

"Just drink it, Merlin," Arthur said, dropping back into his seat.

"There's no water around here, though," Merlin said, unopened skin still in hand.

"Trust me, we know that." Gwaine sighed. "What I wouldn't give for a hot bath right about now."

"What have you two been drinking?"

"If I had a piece of gold for every time someone said that to me-" Gwaine said with a smirk.

"Gwaine."

"Look, Merlin, just drink the damn water," Arthur said in exasperation.

"No." Merlin set the water skin down and turned his nose up. "You two haven't had any all day. I've been drinking all of it."

"You're the sick one, you idiot." Arthur snatched up the skin off the ground and shoved it back into Merlin's hands. "Drink."

"No."

"That's an order, Merlin!"

"You can't order me around!" Merlin snapped.

Arthur raised his eyebrows. Merlin maintained his glare for another few seconds before wilting in the firelight and dropping his gaze.

"Sorry," he muttered, staring at the ground.

"Don't be," Arthur said. "You're right."

Merlin looked up and shot Arthur a look that plainly said, ' _Who are you and what have you done with the king?_ '

"Sorry?" Gwaine asked from the ground.

"He's right," Arthur said. He sighed and got to his feet. "I can't order you to drink it, Merlin. But I _can_ refuse to drink it myself. Or maybe I'll just dump it in the bushes. Either way, that water's either going into you or the earth. Take your pick."

Merlin glared. Arthur smiled. Merlin uncapped the water skin and took a violent sip of it.

"I hate you," he muttered.

"Sure you do." Arthur gave Gwaine a light kick as he passed on his way to the supplies.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The embers were dying in the fire. The drop in temperature had rendered Arthur's thin blanket useless, but he didn't fancy the prospect of getting up to coax the flames back up. It was too dark and much too cold.

He shifted, turning onto his side and curling up under the scrappy blanket. A flicker of unease flashed through his mind. Squinting through the darkness he traced Merlin's tiny shape underneath Arthur's thick woolen blanket that he knew kept the elements entirely out. Merlin was probably hot underneath that with his fever; Arthur had never been uncomfortable when using it. Had Merlin been this cold every night they had been on a trip? Had he kept silent about the rocks and chill? And why hadn't Arthur noticed until now?

The stars were dim overhead. Arthur could barely see them through the inky clouds blotting them from view. He heard a low moan and turned to see Merlin shift, shuffle underneath his blankets, and then fall silent again.

Arthur knew that he shouldn't, that Merlin needed his rest, but the word passed his lips anyways. "Merlin?"

There was a moment of silence in which Arthur decided Merlin must be asleep after all. But then a voice as wispy as the smoke curling out of the dying fire said, "Arthur?"

Oh. He hadn't really expected him to respond.

"...Are you alright?"

"…Yes, it just hurts a little."

"…Oh."

The whisper of the wind in the trees.

"Arthur?"

"Merlin?"

"If- if I say anything tomorrow-"

"Say anything?"

"You know, while I'm delusional?"

"Oh, yeah."

"If I say anything that doesn't- I mean, I might say stuff that sounds kind of suspicious, considering-"

"Considering what?"

"…Just… promise you'll let me explain before you jump to any conclusions."

"What could you possibly say that would warrant that?"

The hoot of an owl somewhere in the forest.

"…Just promise me. Please."

"…I promise."

"Thank you. And if I don't wake up-"

"Shut up, Merlin."

"No, Arthur, if I don't wake up-"

" _Shut up, Merlin._ "

"But-"

"For god's sake, shut _up._ "

"…Fine."

"Hmph."

Gwaine snored in his sleep. Two pairs of eyes stared up at the night.

"Arthur?"

"Hm?"

"I don't want to go to sleep."

"…."

"I don't want to wake up and be- what if I don't-?"

"You'll be fine, Merlin. Gwaine and I will be with you. We'll watch out for you. You're safe."

"…Thank you."

"Go to sleep, Merlin."

"…Okay."

Somewhere, a bat swooping low, crying out for prey.

"Goodnight, Arthur."

"Goodnight, Merlin."

Even the embers were dying. Arthur rolled over onto his other side and stared at the flecks of orange, smelled the last of the smoke dissipating. He thought of that one hole he had found in his blanket on the last trip. He hadn't had time to patch it yet. It would be right at Merlin's shoulder.

He got up to stoke the fire.

 **A/N: Thanks for all the lovely reviews! I hope you enjoyed.**


End file.
